


I'll Find You

by Awriterwrites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And needs Louis to remind him, Eventual Smut, Hang in there for the smut, Harry forgets how beautiful he is, IT'S WORTH IT, It's a slow build, Kid Fic, M/M, a little sexy time for the dads, harry is on a wild goose chase, marriage is hard, mentions of rimming and blowjobs, scavenger hunt?, so is raising kids, so sometimes you need a break from it all, weekly 1D prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-06 00:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5395835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kid/parent au that finds Harry looking all over town for something he's been missing and finding it in a very familiar place.</p><p>Submitted as a part of the http://weekly1dprompts.tumblr.com/</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Find You

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as something different than what it ended up being but...anyone with kids can relate to this story. And anyone without kids can read it and know that good sex doesn't die after marriage! Hope you like this. Please leave a note and let me know what you think!

“Papa! Papa!”

Harry’ arse was in the air. His arse was in the air and his face was smushed up against the carpeting. This might have been a desirable position in many other circumstances that Harry could think of, but not in his current situation. His arm was extended as far as it could go underneath the worn upholstered sofa. His fingers stretched and his face contorted into a comical grimace as he groped and probed amongst the dusty tumbleweeds and errant crumbs under the couch.

“Paaaaaapaaaa!” The yelling continued, coming from somewhere on the other side of the house.

“Coming Jackson!” Harry’s voice was muffled and weary, but still focused on letting his three year old son know he heard him.

Finally his long fingers brushed up against the rubbery; if not slightly tacky and tiny object he’d been seeking. “Aha!” He cried out victoriously, hand wrapping around the elusive item.

Slowly pulling his arm out, Harry inched up from the floor and pushed back to his haunches. He groaned loudly as his back screamed in protest. His long wavy hair hung loose around his shoulders as he brought the bright pink pacifier up to his face to examine. “Ew.” Harry groused, noticing the bits of lint and a hair that clung to the bulgy nipple at the end of the pink plastic mouthpiece.

His face widened into a big grin as he hugged himself in a small show of happiness at his little triumph. Celebrate the little things, he thought to himself. He could hear Ellie crying now, joining her twin sister Cecilia in the symphony of noise, letting Harry know that pacifiers wouldn’t do it this time. No, the girls needed a bottle, and about 10 minutes ago from the sound of it.

After standing with a series of creaks and pops (getting old, sucked, really) Harry tossed the dirty pacifier in the direction of the kitchen and turned on the warmer that held the prepared bottles Harry had just assembled before the great pacifier hunt. As he made his way down the hall toward the bedrooms he saw Jackson, with his head of wispy brown hair and bright blue eyes, holding a sharpie marker to the stark pale cream wall just outside his bedroom door. Harry gasped and took in his beautiful angelic son and…the wall of impressive toddler artwork he had imparted on top of the eggshell finish Harry had so painstakingly painted nearly 5 years ago when they had moved into this modest suburban home with dreams of starting a family and living happily ever after.

“Jackson!” Harry breathed out, his voice a meager tremble as he tried to hold in exhausted anger.

“Papa!” Jackson smiled broadly, a tiny dimple popping out in his cheek. “I draw you a picture.” He beamed, pride and excitement shooting from his flashing eyes.

 _Fuck_ if that didn’t kill him. Harry exhaled. Then inhaled. Then exhaled. “Jackson.”   Inhale. Exhale. “Markers are for paper, not walls. Where did you get that marker? It’s a special…it’s the kind of marker that only daddies use.”

“Got it from daddy’s desk.” Jackson said simply.

Daddy’s desk. Right. Harry walked slowly toward Jackson. He knelt in front of his son and smoothed his hair off of his forehead. “Jackson ,love. I’m not angry, but I want you to promise me you will never draw on the walls again, ok? Paper only.”

The toddler nodded his head solemnly, taking in his father’s tired green eyes and soft face, lined with a few random wrinkles and a fair shadow of stubble above his lip and on his chin. He placed his chubby little hands on Harry’s cheeks and looked at him earnestly, “Ok Papa.”

“Ok, Jacksy.” Harry ruffled his son’s hair and kissed his little pink cheek. He took the marker from him, tossed it on his own dresser in the room adjacent, and shook his head, already thinking that maybe the hallway was due for a makeover. Might as well be now.

“Papa.” Jackson said slowly, jumping up and down in his toddler exuberance. “The babies are ‘wake.”

Harry smiled and stood up, hearing the girl’s wailing pitifully behind the closed door across from them in the dim hallway. “I know, love. Let’s go get them and give them their milkies, k?”

Jackson laughed and clapped his hands just once. “Milkies!” He slid across the hall in his stocking feet and reached for the knob, fumbling for a second before he managed to open the door.

Harry entered the cheery pale pink nursery already cooing and soothing his 5 month old daughters, Jackson mimicking him, even though his sisters ignored him, favoring their father’s deep rumbling baritone instead. “Baby girls!” Harry sang out. “Ok, ok. I’m sorry kittens, was just getting your milkies ready. Come on little beauties, let’s get you changed and ready for your bottles.”

Each baby lay on her back, precious little hands fluttering in the close air of their cribs. Harry caught his breath as he was overtaken with the overwhelming sense of love he felt for his beautiful, miraculous children. Seeing those little hands waving spastically in the air and hearing the cries slow to coos made Harry’s heart stutter. As it did a million times a day.

Harry quickly changed diapers and sang sweet little songs while Jackson scampered about, talking to himself and his sisters, laughing at his dad’s funny voices as he entertained all three of them. Harry placed gentle kisses on each girl’s cheeks and doted on them carefully. Every day he felt his heart fill more and more with love and affection for his three children. They were just… _so much_.   So much to him and to his life. He couldn’t put into words all that he felt for them.   So he sang.   And kissed them. And showered them with affection day after day.

After maneuvering all four of them to the living room, Harry placed the girls in a play pen and went to the kitchen to retrieve bottles and a sippy cup with juice and some crackers for Jackson. Jackson was already turning the television on for his tv break that he always took when Harry was occupied with the girl’s for their mid-morning feeding.

As Harry leaned over the pack n’ play, his noticed an old dried cheerio in his hair. Making a disgusted noise he picked the offending piece of crusty cereal out of his tangled locks and tossed it in the trashcan next to the desk in the corner of the room. Finding food and bits of their day was a common occurrence in Harry’s hair. Perk (danger?) of the job. Who said being a stay-at-home dad wasn’t dangerous?

The living room was also part office for when Louis, Harry’s husband, worked at home. There was a dining table on the other side of the room, next to the kitchen, opposite the breakfast bar that separated the two rooms. It was small, a tad cluttered, but homey with its toys strewn about and mismatched furniture. Every item in this room, and throughout the entire house, had a story, a memory attached to it. And Harry wouldn’t trade any of them for even the fanciest furniture or largest, most modern house. This was home. And it was exactly what Harry had always wanted.

Except…Harry couldn’t help think as he settled in to feed the girls, except Harry didn’t think parenting would feel so _lonely_ sometimes.  It’s not that Louis left him to it all himself, no, it was more that Harry felt so immersed in parenting every day; it was such a huge chasm to be in with people who only communicated with cries and three word sentences.

When Louis was home he was there; he was present, which was more than what Harry had heard from other stay at home parents.   Some of his friends that he met through parenting classes and play groups complained endlessly about how their spouses were never there, never helped and how they felt burdened with having to do everything. Harry didn’t feel like that, _really_ , it was more the fact that Harry was just always there. The parent who was the ONE…the one that was _there_ every day. The one that knew the schedules, knew what each cry sounded like and meant, the one that made sure their home was home and their lives were simple and carefree. And that was hard, because parenthood was very isolating sometimes. And he made it look easier than it really was.

Not that Harry would change it. Never.

They had agreed that Harry would stay home with the kids while Louis went to work every day since it just made more sense given that Louis’ made more money than Harry (graphic design at an ad agency definitely paid more than music teacher). They made sacrifices living with just one income, but they managed. Sometimes, Harry daydreamed about what it would be like…to get dressed in something besides t-shirts and track pants every day; to go out into the world and talk to adults and “grab a coffee” or have lunch that wasn’t mac and cheese or cheese toasties. He wondered what it would be like to actually take a shower before noon. He wondered what it would be like to feel appreciated for a job well done.

All of the kisses and hugs _were_ pretty great, though. Don’t get that in most jobs.

Cecilia tensed up and made a stubborn sound as she sputtered and pushed the bottle out of her mouth. Harry was brought back to reality when he realized she needed a burp. Gently, he lifted her up to his shoulder, never breaking the suction on Ellie’s bottle. This was a dance he had perfected; feeding both girls at the same time on his lap, all three of them taking up residence on the worn recliner, one girl sprawled out across each of Harry’s thighs, staring up at their loving father. Jackson was dancing around to an old episode of the Wiggles and Harry was content.

After bottle time was a brisk walk outside, stopping at the nearby playground so Jackson could take a few turns on the swing and the toddler slide. On the walk home they stopped at the market to pick up some eggs for lunch.   Once back inside, the twins had tummy time on the carpet, underneath brightly colored light up mobiles while Jackson and Harry colored on stark white pieces of paper nearby.

“I make a pitcher on paper, Papa. Not the wall.” Jackson hummed, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration.

“Good work, Jacksy. I like when you make art on paper and not on the wall.” Harry smiled, knowing that Jackson was processing what had happened earlier. “You getting hungry for lunch?”

“Yes please.” Jackson said, not looking up from his multi-colored scribbles.

Harry scooted over to where Cecilia and Ellie lay on the floor and blew raspberries at Ellie and leaned over to tickle Cecie’s neck with wet kisses. Both girls gurgled and smiled, happy and comfortable. Harry made a quick lunch of scrambled eggs and fruit smoothies for him and Jackson. They ate at the table, watching over the girls and talking about which colors were their favorite in the rainbow.  

The afternoon progressed evenly, all three kids taking a nap while Harry tidied up and paid some bills. By the time Jackson woke, Harry was walking through that afternoon haze of exhaustion that could only be assuaged with caffeine. He made a cup of coffee at the single cup server in the kitchen and gulped down half of it while Jackson woke up on the couch with a stack of board books. The girls were up next and needed changing and feeding and the whole morning routine was repeated.

Louis was home by 6:00 for dinner (leftover casserole from the weekend) and he was greeted at the door with a weary husband and an enthusiastic toddler. “Jacksy! How was the day?” He called out, scooping Jackson up and hugging him close.

Louis met Harry’s eyes over their son’s head and he could see the fatigue spreading from Harry’s forehead down to his toes. Louis gave Harry a soft smile and a quick chaste kiss. Jackson was pulling Louis in to the house, barely giving him a moment to shrug off his suit jacket and deposit his brief case on one of the kitchen chairs. Harry lay Cecilia in the swing and checked on Ellie, who was in a bouncy chair. Satisfied, he moved to the kitchen to get dinner from the oven as he listened to Jackson ramble about the day. Louis wasn’t as calm as Harry about the hallway artwork, but he quickly tamped down his rising temper when he caught Harry’s meaningful gaze through the kitchen door.

They ate dinner quickly, Jackson still talking, Harry and Louis each with a daughter in their laps, and it was peaceful. Harry asked Louis about his day. Louis commented on how good the dinner was and asked Harry if he remembered to pay the water bill.

After dinner the kids were given baths by Louis and Harry cleaned up the kitchen and threw a load of wash in. Harry made bedtime bottles and prepared Jacksons’ bedtime snack. Feedings were done, stories were read, songs were sung, night lights were lit and finally, finally, the house was quiet and Harry was nearly comatose on the sofa.

“Did you see Cecilia watching Jackson while he was singing Hazza?” Louis’ musical voice floated through the quiet house from the kitchen, just barely heard over the dishwasher.

Harry stretched his sore limbs so that his toes curled around the edge of the couch. “Hm. I did. And did you see how mad he was that Ellie could care less?”

Louis chuckled as he walked toward the couch, two glasses of red wine in his hands. “Sorry I almost lost it over the marker in the hallway.”

“Well, darling, if someone hadn’t left the sharpie within reach…” Harry began, sitting up, running a hand through his long hair and taking the offered wine glass.

Louis looked apologetic. “Oh. Sorry.”

“S’ alright.” Harry waved him off, moving over so Louis could cuddle in beside him. “We need to paint again anyway, spruce things up a bit.”

Louis nodded and tasted the wine. Harry leaned back again, tucking a leg underneath himself and turning so he could see his husband properly for the first time today.

Louis was still strikingly handsome. _So_ handsome. More so now that he settled into his early thirties, a few silvery gray hairs lining his temples and the fine lines that crinkle around his eyes so finely etched that he looked permanently on the edge of mirth. Harry felt a small stir in his tummy. He still got butterflies when he looked at Louis; when he thought “He’s mine.”

The thing was, this routine of theirs, having dinner together, getting the kids ready for bed, having a glass of wine or a beer after the kids went down; it was nice, it was the thing that Harry lived for. The thing that got him through to the end of the day. It was sometimes the only time all day he talked to an adult. Sometimes they didn’t even talk, they just sat in silence. And that was ok too, it was just nice to be enveloped in calm; to hear each other breathe and to get lost in the stillness of thought.  

“Tomorrow’s your first class, yeah?” Louis broke the silence with a slow drag from his glass as he wrapped his hand around one of Harry’s ankles.

Harry’s eyes widened. It was Friday today, wasn’t it? That meant tomorrow was Saturday and Harry was set to teach his first beginning guitar class at the community center. Louis was smiling at him from his side of the couch and Harry felt a mixture of warmth and excitement. “Yeah. Can’t wait.” He breathed out.

“You’ll be great, H.” Louis assured him, his thumb running little circles on his bare ankle. “What time do you have to leave?”

Harry thought on it for a moment. “Probably about 9:30. The class is at 10:00. It will be right in the middle of the girl’s naps so it should be easy enough for you.”

“Don’t worry about us at all. Go and have fun.”

Teaching this class was Louis’ way of pushing Harry back into the world. Given the fact that Harry had been a stay at home dad for the better part of three years with hardly any time to himself, Louis had urged Harry to apply for the teaching job. It was only one hour a week on a Saturday and it would help Harry get out of the house and do something that he loved. Long ago, BC (before children, as Harry liked to think of it), Harry was a music educator. He worked for a prestigious school where he provided classes and lessons to adults and children. His most favorite instrument was the guitar, but he could also play piano and violin.

One hour a week seemed like an eternity to Harry.

He’d only been away from the kids a handful of times and usually it was to do a little shopping alone or run an errand. Even then he felt like an appendage was missing or that he’d forgotten to tell Louis something horribly important, something that could mean the difference between life and death, which was, really…ridiculous. Louis was a good father. He was spectacular at winging it. Harry knew this. Any fear he had of leaving the children alone wasn’t because he was afraid Louis couldn’t handle it. It was because he was afraid _he_ couldn’t handle being _away_.

So, one hour a week. That was the compromise.

After an hour or so of small talk and catching up, Louis and Harry shuffled off to bed, pressing small kisses to each other’s cheeks and lips, both too tired to do much else other than cuddle and drift off. Harry missed sex. Frequent sex, that is. He and Louis found time once a week or so, sometimes less if one of the children were ill or if someone was teething or going through a particularly rough patch of development. So, really…they had sex a few times a month. They tried to make time for it, but sometimes sleep just seemed so much more important. Not that they weren’t attracted to one another anymore. Harry found Louis to be incredibly attractive still.   They’d both changed with age, sure, but they still were them and years, children and life couldn’t change that.

It’s just that…

The spark was gone? Maybe? Not really gone. Dimmed, maybe? Lesser in some way. The spark was there but it was buried beneath the everyday minutia of raising a family. And the fact was, Harry was “ _papa_ ” now. He just didn’t feel all that sexy anymore. At least in his eyes. It was hard to feel that way when he was covered in baby spit up. And had rough dish pan hands and his tight jeans he used to wear when he first met Louis were stashed in the back of the closet, barely able to get buttoned anymore because, well, Harry and Jackson liked to bake and baking meant sampling and sampling meant a few extra pounds around the middle. No matter, his track pants with the stretch waist still fit, so…

Harry snuggled in closer to Louis, felt his strong arms wrap around his middle and felt his breath puffing at the back of his neck. It was warm, safe and comfortable. Harry was content.

****

“You sure I look ok?”

“Babe. You look gorgeous. Just go!”

Harry looked down at his black jeans (turns out there was one pair that actually did still fit him) and his loose grey sweater. He was actually wearing boots today instead of tennis shoes and his hair was conditioned and sans dried cereal or any bodily fluids. He felt…ok. Worried, but ok.

“The kids…”

“GO!” Louis ordered, practically marching Harry out the door with barely a good bye.

Harry stood on the other side of the door dazed but resolute. He was going to do this. He could do this.

He made his way down the block to the community center. It was just a few blocks from home, making it really very easy. His mind was clouded with details he couldn’t let go of. Schedules, likes and dislikes, little quirks…He shook his head and took in deep breaths of cool morning air. It was mid-fall but the weather had been glorious this week and today was no exception. It was bright and sunny, cool but not cold. Perfect jeans and sweater weather. BC he and Louis would have used a day like today to go on a long run and end up for a picnic in a park somewhere. An afternoon nap (and, if he really thought about it, probably some marathon sex) and dinner out would have rounded out the day. But not today. Today he would teach his class and end up at home, immersed in routine, today no different than others. The added bonus would be that Louis would be home to help, although many weekends he worked a few hours from his desk in the living room. Time kept marching on. So did Harry.

Harry approached the squat yellow brick building in the middle of the town square and made his way up the walk, vibrant yellow and red leaves crunching under his heeled boots. He entered the musty, but cozy, building and went into the small office in the vestibule. He greeted the secretary (who knew him by name because he and the kids were frequent class takers and party goers here) and signed in and went to his classroom. He got the chairs arranged just so and set up his music stand and guitar he’d stashed in the closet earlier in the week and waited. He still had 25 minutes before class started.

Well. This was unfortunate. All dressed up and no place to go. Harry wasn’t particularly good with just sitting around so he walked around the building a bit. He found a coffee pot and made himself a cup in the office. He met the janitor (Phil) and heard all about his wife and kids (Sue, Quentin and James) and also found out that the rest room on the second floor had a leaky faucet (“the damndest thing”). Bored, he made his way back to his classroom.

Harry was surprised to see a few students. Slowly, walking to the front of the room he met a few of the prompt seemingly over-achievers, greeting each of them warmly and learning their names. The morning progressed from there. The classroom slowly filled up and Harry took time to introduce himself to each student. He felt his nerves slowly subside as he got ready to begin.

All in all, the class went really well. It was a beginner class, so nothing presented, today, on the first day, was particularly challenging. All of the students seemed engaged and pleasant enough, making Harry’s job easier. As he went over basic guitar maintenance and care and introduced some finger placements and basic technique, he found himself completely falling back in to teaching routine. It was easy to be in front of a group again, so easy, in fact, he barely thought about what was going on at home…

The class ended with a small review of a “homework” assignment as Harry wished everyone a good week. A few of the students who seemed to know each other hung around and made some plans, but the room cleared out pretty quickly. Harry moved the chairs back in their original arrangement and gathered up his things to head home.  

He could hear the click click of his heels on the dull over waxed linoleum floor as he made his way to the exit. Harry was already thinking about what he would be making for dinner that night and hoping Louis wouldn’t be too tired for a little fun after the kids went to bed. It had been nearly two weeks since they’d had sex and Harry was overdue. He felt this thrumming energy buzzing under his skin. Almost like his blood had thickened in his veins and his muscles were pulled too tight.

“Mr. Styles! Mr. Styles!”

Harry heard a voice calling him from around the corner just as he was about to push the door out into the bright fall day. He turned on his heel and walked in the direction he came from. He was surprised to see Phil, the janitor, racing toward him.

“Phil?” He asked, running his long fingers through his hair.

“Glad I caught you.” Phil breathed out, the exertion of running to catch Harry written all over his face. “Someone dropped this at the office for you while you were in class.”

Harry looked down at Phil’s calloused hand and saw that he was holding a blank white letter sized envelope. “Thanks Phil.” He said, pulling the paper into his hand. “Who’s it from?”

Phil shrugged his shoulders, his blue denim coveralls moving with the action. “Dunno. Mary jus’ tole me to give it to you.”

Harry smiled kindly and patted Phil on the shoulder. “Thanks, then Phil. Have a good rest of your weekend.” Phil smiled back and turned around, pushing his forgotten mop along the dusty floor.

Harry looked at the envelope suspiciously. He wondered what it could be. He continued outside and took a deep breath of the cool dry air. Fall was his favorite season. Not just because of the changing colors and the cooler temperatures, though. For Harry fall always felt like starting over. It felt like new beginnings, much more than spring time did, which was weird since autumn was usually the act of ending, or dying, literally, if you looked at the trees outside. But for Harry fall always felt exhilarating.

He found a bench along the quiet wooded street that ran alongside the community center to open his envelope. He stretched his long legs out and reveled in the quiet midday sun. The sound of the envelope ripping under his fingertips was muted and soft, like the leaves falling from the sky all around him. Inside the envelope was an unfamiliar handwriting and a perplexing message:

_Taste on my tongue_

_I don’t wanna wash away_

_the night before_

_Your next clue can be found_

_under the golden door_

 

Then, underneath the passage, it said: _I love your eyes. They are the first thing I noticed about you. They make me want to know you more. They feel like I’ve known you forever._

 

Harry read the paper three times. Then he read it again. He slowly looked around to see if someone was watching him. This had to be a joke, right? What the hell was this? He was being filmed or something, right?

He shook his head and looked down at the loose-leaf paper in his hand. The message was written in simple black ink, the script neat and legible, and the letters curved and precise. He definitely didn’t recognize the handwriting. What did it mean and, more importantly, what was it from?

The first two lines he recognized from somewhere. A poem? A song? That must be it. He just couldn’t place it. But the last line, the final in the mysterious message was what caught his eye the most. The writer assumed he would be interested in following some sort of clue. Which was… _preposterous_? Harry thought about it. For all he knew the message was from a kidnapper or a mass murderer. Why would he look for more “clues” or whatever this is?

And what about the lines about his eyes? Whoever wrote this knew him, had seen him at least for more than a passing second. He was intrigued about who would have written this, planned it, wanted him to read it and follow it. But still…people just don’t do this sort of thing. Follow a clue in the middle of a bright fall morning on a whim just because someone left them a note. Do they?

Harry was sitting more upright on the worn wooden bench than he was moments before as his body curved in on itself in thought. This was the strangest thing that had ever happened to him.   Maybe this was a message from one of his students. He thought back to the group of adults he’d taught this morning. There were a few people his age. A few people that maybe had an interest in Harry, or might have maybe written this, but Harry just didn’t know. Certainly there were a few attractive men and women in the group but...He didn’t know them well enough to even imagine who would have left this for him. And what would they want with him and why would they want him to follow clues anyway?

Harry was confused and wasn’t sure what to do next. He should probably just ignore the mysterious message in his hand. He should probably just head home and figure out what he was going to do with his kids, his husband in the coming hours. What he shouldn’t do is read the paper in his hand again.

He read the paper again.

What the fuck?

Just then, Harry’s phone buzzed in his back pocket, his alerts and ringer turned off from earlier. He pulled it out of his jeans and saw he had a text from Louis.

L: _Hey babe. Hope class went well. Heading out with the kids to my mom’s. Take the afternoon off! Go out to eat. See a movie. Relax. All is fine here._

Harry stared at the phone. Two surprises in less than 5 minutes. Albeit the first one was a little more perplexing. Having the entire afternoon “off” from parenting was unprecedented. Surprising and even a little unsettling. What would he do with his time? He’d never really had more than an hour or two away from his kids before. He was rarely sick and never really looked for time away. He preferred being at home. He liked his routine. Faced with an afternoon sprawled out in front of him with no responsibilities and no real demands he was suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Harry looked from the slightly crumpled note in his hand to his rose gold iphone 6 in his other hand. Weird.

He couldn’t believe it but he was actually contemplating looking for another “clue” as requested in the message between his fingers. But he was. He was doing more than contemplating it; he was actually trying to figure out what the clue meant so he could find the next one, if there was one. Which was…crazy. Right?

He glanced back at his cell phone and hastily typed a response:

H: _Wow! Thanks Lou. Hope everything is ok. I’ll see you at home later?_

Harry saw that Louis was typing a message in return.

L: _Definitely. Have a good afternoon to yourself!_

Harry smiled at Louis’ thoughtfulness. He had been really stressed lately; in a rut almost. Being a stay at home parent was the hardest thing he’d ever done and he never really thought about giving himself some time away. He had always known that parenting was truly selfless; but just how utterly wrapped up in the act of giving to his children every day was something he could have never fully prepared for. It might actually be nice to do a few things for himself today. Do things he wanted instead of what a very bossy toddler wanted. Move through the world on his own time instead of at the mercy of the schedule imposed by his lovely but needy infants.

He might actually be…happy about this turn of events. Excited, even.

Turning back to the message he read it again.

“ _Your next clue can be found under the golden door.”_

Looking up at the sky, Harry closed his eyes and felt the sun warm his cheeks and dance across his face. The golden door…Sitting upright suddenly, eyes wide in comprehension, Harry thought of the only thing “ _golden door_ ” could mean. Holy shit. He knew where the next clue was.

****

Harry stood on the sidewalk in the middle of their quaint little city’s downtown shopping district. It ran along the northwest and western borders of the town square, the other two sides reserved for city and municipal buildings such as the library and town hall. Once he’d figured out what the golden door referred to, Harry really couldn’t think of anywhere else that the clue _could_ be. It was rather obvious.

Along the street all of the store fronts were uniform and tasteful. All of the signs were wooden and painted using the same white font and evergreen background. The town chamber of commerce had worked with all of the local businesses to get the signs made and hung before last summer, when tourists made their way through the town on their way to some of the larger attractions along the shore just to the east. All but one business went along with the signage brigade, as Harry liked to think of it.

Golden Rays Tea House was right in the middle of Main Street and was an eyesore. A beautiful, sparkly, larger than life eyesore of a tea shoppe smack in the middle of this fairly conservative town. Rhea Duran was the proprietor, and if her shop was garish and loud, then Rhea was even more so. She often came to work in brightly colored floor length skirts and mismatched flowy top, beads jangling around her neck, bracelets looped up and down her arms, feathers hanging from her long frizzy hair and the scent of recently smoked cannabis hanging around her like her own personal peace cloud. She was probably one of Harry’s favorite people on earth.

The best part of Golden Rays Tea House was the entry way. The arched door way had been molded from intricately carved wooden scrolls, swirls and curlicues all of which were painted a bright glittery shade of gold so bright you could easily see it from any vantage point on the square. It was round and bulbous, protruding from the actual building so that it created a prominent shadow on the sidewalk. There was no other “golden door” Harry could think of when considering his “clue”.

Harry pushed through the doors and immediately took in the heavy aroma of tea leaves and fresh baked scones. The air was laced with something sweet and pungent, nutmeg maybe, as well as the dusty scent of the magazines and books that lined the many shelves surrounding the mismatched chairs and tables. There was a raised platform near the door with some bean bag chairs and low tables so tea drinkers could sit on the plush carpet in small clusters.

“Harry! Lovely boy, what brings you here…Oh! Are you alone today?” Rhea’s clear musical voice rang out through the small cozy space.

Harry smiled sheepishly, patting his front pocket where the first clue lay crumpled and worn. “That I am, Rhea. How are you?”

Rhea smiled and looked serene as she spoke, “I am blessed beyond measure.”

Harry grinned, because, how could you not when someone as Zen as Rhea was shining in your presence?  “Good, good…” Harry wasn’t sure what to do next. He’d found the place; the place the clue was directing him to but he wasn’t sure how or where to get the next one. He decided to get a cup of tea since he was in a tea house after all. “Can I have a cup of chai rooibos, please Rhea?”

Rhea nodded and twirled about behind the counter, exuding a very Stevie Nicks vibe in her layers of gauzy clothing, as she prepared his cup. They made small talk about Rhea’s partner Corinne and the harvest parade that was coming up in a few weeks. Rhea asked after the kids and Harry found himself beaming when talking about how the twins were just starting to hold their own bottles. She handed Harry his tea in a bright pink mug with a small cranberry tea biscuit alongside it.

“Enjoy your tea darling.” She mused, already moving on to the next customer.

Harry sauntered over to the corner by the window, pulling up a chair and sipping on his blissfully warm beverage. As he looked out over the square he pulled the first clue out of his pocket. He read it a few times while his tea soothed his throat and warmed his insides. Under the golden door….Under the golden door.

Harry looked around outside under the entryway from his perch in the front window. The entry way was unremarkable, aside from the outlandish paint and over the top decorative etchings, but that didn’t really speak to a clue per say. He stared and stared at the arch way and the etchings while he made his way through his cup. The golden light from outside streamed through the window, and that, along with the tea in his hands, made him feel warm and calm.

Looking from top to bottom of the doorway Harry realized that he should be looking “under” the golden door. Meaning, whatever he was looking for had to be under something or low to the ground; literally _under_ the door. He slid off his chair and meandered to the front of the store. He looked through the glass at the exterior of the entryway. There was a small wooden cat with a chalkboard front that Rhea put out daily and used to promote whatever her “brew of the day” was (today’s was “Majestic Mint”). Alongside the kitty sign was a large welcome mat painted in bright golden yellow that said “Our Door is Always Open”. Harry and Jackson often made sure to wipe their feet thoroughly on that mat every time they came for a visit, since they usually went to the playground beforehand and had muddy or sandy feet.

Like a lightning bolt going off in his head Harry startled as he realized the clue must be there, under the mat. The mat was under the golden door…not just the doorway but the word “door” on the mat, which was also golden yellow in color. Holding his breath and biting his lip, Harry opened the door slowly and bent over to lift up the mat. He exhaled in a loud whoosh when he saw a clear plastic bag underneath it holding a letter sized white envelope inside of it.

“A-ha!” He exclaimed, earning him a startled look from an elderly woman walking in front of the building just then.

He blushed furiously under the woman’s surprised stare and grabbed the bag and let the mat flop back to the ground, upsetting the dust and a few stray leaves in the process. He went back to his seat at the window and laid the bag and envelope in front of him. He stared at it for a moment, contemplating his next move, as he sipped his cooling tea. He talked himself into opening it.

Now he was getting into really ridiculous territory. Not only did he follow the first clue, but here he is, in his favorite tea house about to open a second clue. A second clue from a veritable stranger who could very well be leading him to his death.

Like the last note, this one was written in the same non-descript black ink and legible writing. Like the last one, this one had song lyrics included as well.

_Sweet…where you lay_

_Just a trace of innocence on the pillow case_

_To find what’s next, look where children play_

_I love your hair and the way it falls over your shoulders. In your locks I feel warm waves of memory and I can see the shadow of summer light that holds me captive. You control me. I am yours. You are everything. Everything to me._

 

Harry felt an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach. He looked around nervously. This person…whoever it was writing these clues…had some very definite feelings about him and it was _odd_. Thrilling, maybe, but _odd_ all the same.   The language was strangely familiar, the last few lines written like a poem, a love poem. It was intimate and sort of beautiful in a peculiar way.

So…the clue. Ok. Weird poem or song lyrics again. But still, Harry couldn’t place them. And the last part about his hair. He didn’t know if he should be flattered or a little creeped out. It made him feel like someone was watching him. Examining him. Yet still….there was something strangely familiar about it. Something in the words, and the lyrics, made him feel warm and vulnerable, like he knew he was safe, he was ok to continue to follow the clues.  So he decided to follow this clue like he did the last.

“Where children play.” The only place that could be was…Looking across the square Harry could make out the playground on the opposite corner. The bright green fixtures were visible from where he sat and he could see a few kids swinging on the swings. It was a beautiful day for the park. In fact, if he wasn’t spending all of his time alone this glorious afternoon, Harry would have probably taken Jackson to the park at some point.

So, the park? Harry figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. Apparently he was resigned to playing along with this little game. He and the mystery clue leaver-slash-wannabe poet were engaged now and Harry was having a hard time finding a reason _not_ to look for the next clue. What else did he have to do?

Picking up his mug and taking it to the bin on top of the trash can, Harry called out a goodbye and thanks to Rhea who was in the back room singing along to a Dixie Chick song. He rushed out into the crisp air to find his next clue.

****

Harry was stuck. He was talking to Amanda, one of the moms from Tuesday morning playgroup, and he was stuck. She was asking him all about Jackson’s potty training and wondering what she could make with the salmon in her freezer and all Harry could think about what the fact that he was on a wild goose chase with a poetic, and maybe a little creepy, faceless stranger. He needed to find his next clue and it was kind of maddening how Amanda could ramble on and on about the merits of salmon croquettes. Where the fuck was the clue? It could be anywhere here at the park.

“Where is Jackson anyway?” Amanda chirped, bouncing her youngest son Avery on her hip.

“Hm?” Harry ran his hand through his hair and squinted in the bright sunshine. “Oh! Jackson. Yeah…he’s out with Lou today. At Lou’s mom’s house.”

“Oh, how nice to have a husband who actually takes the kids on a weekend. Geoff is off golfing, of course.” Then Amanda launched into her husband’s obscene golfing habit while Harry nodded politely and scanned the park. It could be anywhere.

“Mommy! Mommy!” Peter, Amanda’s three year old son, came running over from the slides clutching something white in his hands. “I foun’ dis by the slide.”

Amanda looked down at her son, his blonde hair sticking straight up in the air from the static electricity emitted by the plastic fixtures. “What did you find?” Her voice was calm but alarmed as she took in the object in his grubby little hand.

“It was under the slide, mommy. Do you think Santa Clause left it?” His screechy little voice was animated and excited.

Harry glanced down at him, grateful that Amanda was finally distracted. Now maybe he could excuse himself and find the next clue. He looked back at Peter quickly. He was clutching a white letter size envelope in his chubby pale hand. It was ripped along one of the seams, a piece of tattered tape hanging off the paper.

“Oh! Peter, I was actually…” Harry was flustered. How do you tell a three year old and his mother that he was actually looking for that envelope, at the park of all places, because a mystery person was leaving him clues all over town. Clues for what, he didn’t know, but still… “Er…I was…that’s mine!”

Amanda looked up at Harry sharply. “It’s yours?” She asked, not able to hide the confusion in her voice.

Harry backtracked. “Yeah…uh. I left it here. Um. It’s a game I was playing with Jackson.”

Peter looked from his mom and back to Harry. Finally, Amanda looked down at her son and appeared to be about to tell him to hand the precious envelope over to Harry when Peter raised his hand and shoved the wet (was that slobber?) envelope over to Harry. “Here mister Harry. Can I play with you and Jackson?”

“Um. Not today, ok Peter. Maybe next week? I uh…I really have to go.” Harry fled the park, knowing Amanda was staring after him bewildered.

He was an idiot.

An idiot with his next clue. He sent a silent thank you back to Peter. Glad he didn’t have to climb the slide or lay on the ground under the merry ground in a playground full of overprotective parents, Harry raced off down the street. He got to the other side of the square and sat at a picnic table, unfolding the damp envelope in his hands. He looked at it suspiciously before he opened it. He’d made it this far…

Excitedly, he flattened the note out in front of him. This clue was a little more detailed. And bordering on X rated.

Harry felt a blush grow over his face. Written in the center of the paper was this:  

_In the heat where you lay_

_I could stay right here and burn it all day._

_To find your next clue you must go where the ocean meets the sea_

_I love your body. I worship each tender inch of your skin. I long for you. I live for you. The sound of your voice moaning deep in my ear is a lullaby to me; a song of love and complete surrender. The sound I will carry with me all of my life and into the next._

 

Harry gulped and was certain he could feel eyes on the back of his neck. He glanced around the square surreptitiously. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. People were walking along window shopping, there were a few cars driving through the small town and he could hear the sound of children playing across the square.   The air was sweet and still under the autumn sky.

And Harry was getting hard.

Which was… _ridiculous_. Absolutely ridiculous that a stranger’s note to him was getting him all riled up.

He straightened his long legs out under the table and willed his body to cooperate. It didn’t help that he hadn’t had sex in exactly 13 days, but still…This was getting borderline twilight zone what with all the clues and the notes and the body…worship? Whatever it was, Harry was done. He couldn’t pursue this. Whatever it was he had to stop. He had a husband. A family. And whoever was writing this was…well…obsessed with him, or so it sounded like. And it couldn’t end well.

So, Harry was done.

****

Once his cock was back under control, Harry folded up the paper and slipped it in his pocket with the others and began walking toward home. He still felt his nerve endings twitching; like they weren’t satisfied with his brain’s determined choice to bring this scavenger hunt to a close, but that wasn’t his body’s choice, was it?

He trudged through the leaves and felt tired.   A nap. That’s what he needed, Harry thought. He’d go home and have a nice little nap; luxuriate in an quiet house with no one there to wake him or need him in anyway. Hell, maybe he’d even sleep naked. A true luxury these days with little eyes and abundant questions. Maybe have a nice long wank. Now, that was something he could definitely get behind.

About a block outside of the downtown area Harry decided to take the long way home, skirting past the community center so he could walk past the line of old historic homes, most of which were painted ladies. He always liked the idea of houses called painted ladies. So fancy; formal but in a kind of ostentatious way. It reminded him of the expression “ladies of the night”. Chuckling, he found himself thinking about ladies of the night living in painted ladies. Really, he was in need of a nap; getting delirious with himself after all the excitement this morning.

Turning west, heading toward their modest Georgian home, Harry walked along Atlantic Drive, humming a tune in his head. The sun hid behind a cloud, making the air feel suddenly cooler. Harry pulled his sweater down over his forearms and hid his long fingered hands inside the cuffs as he tried to shake off the thoughts clouding his mind surrounding clues and obscure song lyrics.

About two blocks from his house was the little stand that the neighborhood parent association put up a few months ago. It stood proudly on the corner and was part of a movement called “The Little Free Library”.   It was a free “honor system” book exchange and their neighborhood had decided to use it for children’s books. Jackson and Harry liked to walk past here about once or twice a month and exchange a few of Jackson’s books for used books found in the box.

Glancing down at the box, Harry slowed down enough to check out any new titles. There are a few that he didn’t recognize but most of them are ones he and Jackson have read already. He makes a mental note to bring Jackson back tomorrow or the next day with a few books to switch out. He allows himself a little stretch at the hips while the sun comes back out to shine down over the dappled yellow leaves overhead. He decides to turn down Adriatic Boulevard, which will take him to Huron Road, his street.

Harry stopped abruptly about two steps past the corner.

Atlantic and Adriatic.

_Where the ocean meets the sea._

Atlantic Ocean and Adriatic Sea.

Holy crap. He found a clue without meaning to.

Harry spun around in a half circle, his hair fanning out over his shoulders like a chocolate waterfall. Resembling a madman, he looked around for where the clue could be hiding. His mind conveniently forgot about the fact that he had decided to forego any further clue finding or solving. His wide green eyes settled on the little clear mailbox holding the books. Could it be?

He gingerly walked back to where he stood just a moment before and peered into the box. It looked like it always did; small paperback and board books with tattered edges lining the two shelves, the door at the rear of the box, facing opposite the street. He walked to the back side and gently opened the latch. The books were lined up neatly as always, the page edges facing the door so you had to slide each book out to see its title. It was kind of honor system; each lender and borrower responsible for keeping the shelves tidy and taking books in the same ratio as leaving.

Harry ran his fingertips over the battered pages, skipping along the heavy cardboard ends and flittering over the more fragile paper edges. He slowly began pulling out books and giving them a little shake over the leaf littered ground, sliding each book on top of the box after studying it and coming up empty handed. The first shelf proved unremarkable. The second shelf seemed more of the same until Harry pulled out a well-loved copy of Harold and the Purple Crayon. When he shook it out, the telltale plastic bag floated to the ground, holding in its clear boundaries a white letter sized envelope.

Harry gasped in the quiet air. Another clue. He stood perfectly still for a moment and weighed his options. He could open it. Open it and see if the message was cryptic and vexing like the last three or he could ignore it and continue blissfully on his way home. Of course, Harry being Harry (curiosity-killed-the-cat tendencies and all) decided to open it.

_Lost my senses_

_I’m defenseless_

_I’m all yours_

_I’ve got no control_

_I love your heart. Of all the moments that make up time itself, your heart is timeless; beating fast and true. I will always be yours. And will prove it to you for all of eternity. A whisper against your lips today will show you all that you mean to me and the feel of our hearts beating as one tomorrow will show you that we are meant to be. Trust in your heart; don’t be afraid, you’ve come this far, If you want to look for me you will find me in the summer meadows._

It was almost as if the writer could read Harry’s mind. He was afraid. He was worried about what would happen if he actually solved this last clue and found the person who had been taunting him all day. He was afraid that he might actually _want_ to find the writer, see him or her, ask them “ _why me_?” He bit nervously on his thumbnail.

He took a deep breath and slowly stacked the books back up where they belonged. Putting the note in his pocket he thought about what would happen if he didn’t look; if he didn’t solve this clue and follow it. The truth was he was afraid of what would happen if he _didn’t_ look more than if he _did_.

He would regret it, wouldn’t he?

Back in another lifetime Harry took chances. Harry leaped before he looked. He met Louis that way. Just walked up to him at a bar and grabbed his hips and pulled him to the dance floor. They danced all night and went home together, sweaty and delirious with lust, and started the rest of their lives. All because Harry took a chance.

If he didn’t know who wrote these or why they chose him to deliver them to he’d never know; he’d never understand what it was about him, Harry the dad, Harry the boring husband, Harry just that guy who blended in to the background. He wasn’t special. Why was this person baiting him? What was it about _him_ , about Harry that made the writer choose _him_?

A surge of anger flashed through him as he pulled the paper out hastily and slammed the little library’s door shut. Fuck. He had to solve the last clue.

He started walking toward home with purpose, the words from the note burning in his hand as his brain feverishly worked to solve the clue. Thrusting the key in the lock of his quiet suburban home, Harry was a man on a mission. He grabbed his car keys and went to the garage. He threw himself into the car and buckled the belt, huffing out a frustrated breath.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to drive.

_If you want to look for me you will find me in the summer meadows._

This clue was different. Longer, and different in format. The actual clue was the last sentence as opposed to written within the poetry of the message. That in itself made Harry feel on edge. What did it mean? Why the change in delivery format? This clue also seemed more personal; almost more intimate. Which was…perplexing.

Harry had no idea what any of it meant so he started driving. The sun slanted in through the window, making the small confines of his car stuffy and close. Harry opened a window and drummed his fingers on the wheel. He started driving through his neighborhood and then around the square. He was just aimlessly driving, which was actually quite nice. He rarely had time to just drive; listen to music and feel the road beneath his car tumble along beneath him. It was nice; if not a little exasperating knowing he was chasing yet another clue. He was making his way toward the industrial park on the outskirts of town when it came to him.

It was far-fetched but it could be it. Summer Meadows was a small inn out on a stretch of highway that ran between their town and the next. It was quiet and out of the way, but quaint and usually quite popular in the summer months. He wasn’t sure if that section of the message was even where the clue was, but the inn was a start. He didn’t have anything else to go on, so.

Harry knew the innkeeper because it was where his mum and step father stayed when they came to visit, Harry and Louis’ house too cramped for extra people. He and Louis and the kids would sometimes go there for brunch on Sunday mornings as well. It was a pretty little place, off the beaten path and the innkeepers were child friendly, making it a good place for Harry and his little family to visit.

Humming out loud, Harry turned the car toward the inn and drove along the peaceful stretch of two way highway until he came to the inn set back from the road. It was serene and picturesque; the wooded acres surrounding the inn lit up in every shade of red, orange, yellow and brown. The outbuildings, little one room cabins, dotted the hilly space just beyond the inn along the overflowing small stream that ran parallel to the road in the forest. Harry took a deep breath and pulled in to the drive.

His palms were sweaty as he made his way into the inn, heading straight for the reception desk just inside the building. Maryann, the inn’s proprietor, was sitting behind the desk, her reading glasses perched on her straight long nose and her eyes scrunched up as she squinted at the computer in front of her.

“Oh! Harry! Glad you made it.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. It sounded like Maryann was expecting him, so he took that as a good sign. Surely if he was headed for his death or some kind of torture device, she wouldn’t look so happy to see him? This is what Harry told himself as he shifted from his left to right foot and swallowed thickly.

“Maryann. Good to see you. So…erm…” Should he just say something to the effect of I’m on a wild goose chase and this is my last clue and yeah, I’m sorta nuts following these stupid pieces of paper around all day…but anyways, how about the weather?

Maryann laughed a light breathy little chuckle. “Oh Harry. I wish you could see your face.” She dropped her glasses on the desk and pulled her cardigan around her shoulders as she stood from the desk. His internal debate must have been obvious. Harry was glad someone was amused at his state of affairs.

He must have looked very much not amused as Maryann slid an old fashioned looking brass key across the desk. “Here love. You are in the cabin 5 right out the side door there and down the road. It’s the last cabin on the right. You can’t miss it.”

Harry licked his lips and wrapped his hand around the key. He just stared at the cold metal object in his hand. He was frozen and felt a little like he was looking down on himself from above. This can’t be real, right? How was Maryann involved and what the hell was he going to do in some cabin with a stranger or, god forbid, a murderer.

“Go on. The cabin, Harry. Go on.” Maryann teased him and gave his hand a little pat, pushing him toward the side door.

Like in a dream, Harry walked out of the inn and out on to the gravel road. His boots crunched loudly as he walked, the only sound aside from random birds chirping that he could hear in the calm woods. Harry passed two cabins, then a third and a fourth. There was one last cabin at the end of the road, just like Maryann said, and it was slightly larger than the rest. Harry could smell wood smoke and see gray tendrils curling into the sky from the stone chimney atop the building. The cabin was pretty and tasteful looking from the outside. Harry hoped it wasn’t masking some kind of lunatic’s lair.

His gut twisted in a mix of nervous apprehension and excitement. He was finally going to see who was writing him these clues all day. A small part of him clung to a disbelieving fear that this would end in disaster, but mostly he was anxious to be done with this crazy day. He liked Maryann and figured it had to be ok. It was ok. He kept telling himself that. Why would someone go to all this trouble to do him harm, right? Right.

He walked up the two stone steps to the large, heavy, painted, solid, red wooden door. With a slightly shaking hand, Harry slid the key into the lock and turned it.

After pushing the door open, the muted light from the forest spilling in like gold dust, the first thing he noticed was how dim it was. There were a few candles lit on an ornate mantle above the crackling fireplace, but there were no lamps lit or overhead light casting a glow around the room. There was an overstuffed sofa directly to his left and a large plush looking king size bed in the middle of the room; a crimson and taupe quilt thrown over the edge. There was a room on the other side of the bed, the door shut and a sliver of light pouring out through the crack at its base, which Harry assumed to be a bathroom.

The room was empty.

Harry gulped loudly and closed the door behind him. He was closed in with his potential killer. He could feel a slow drop of sweat roll down his spine. It was a strange juxtaposition to the fact that the room was pleasant and smelled like lavender and pine. And fear, now that Harry was here.

“Hello?” Harry’s voice cracked a bit, nerves fizzling through his deep rasp as it bounced around the cabin.

There was a moment, a flash of a second, when Harry’s body screamed at him to runrunrun! But it was over as soon as it began because suddenly the door across the room opened and there stood Louis. _His_ Louis, bathed in golden light, his face an open canvas and his smile warm and happy.

Harry’s mouth dropped as he tried to gather words in his numb brain.

“Lou?” He croaked.

“Hazza.” Louis whispered, leaning against the door frame, his arms crossing over his chest, the long sleeve t-shirt stretching over his defined biceps.

“You? Uh…” Harry stammered. “I’m…uh…confused?”

Louis laughed quietly but stayed put, his stance relaxed and comfortable. “Yeah. It’s me.”

Harry was still trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Louis. Louis had been behind this all day. Well, of course he had. Who else would it be? He…he was the only person who knew Harry. Really _knew_ him. He knew Harry would follow the clues. Knew his curiosity would get the better of him. Knew that somewhere between the lines, deep in his heart, Harry knew it could only be one person: Louis. But more than that, Louis knew Harry like no one else in this world knew him and that was…well, Harry must have known all along in his heart that Louis was the one saying those things to him through the cryptic notes all day, because Louis was the only one who knew him like _that_.

His stomach flipped at the thought. The idea that Louis had planned all this out. Had put those notes in all of those places. Had written those beautiful, romantic things about Harry, of all people. It was overwhelming.

“But… _why_?” Harry whispered, finally stepping into the room.

Louis stepped forward as Harry did, both of them stopping at the lush bed, one on either side. “Want you to know how much I love you. How much I want you.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck and looked at Harry with such open longing…Harry’s pulse quickened at the near desperation in his eyes. “Want you to know that for me…it’s you. It’s always you. It’s always been you and will forever be you.”

Harry stared at Louis, at his husband of nearly 10 years. The man he grew up with; dated when he was sixteen and married at 22. The man he gave his heart and soul to. The man he almost forgot to put first, before kids and dishes and laundry and schedules and life. Fucking _life_ gets in the way, Harry found himself thinking, blinking back tears. It gets away from all of us and sometimes, sometimes you need to be reminded of all the reasons why you’ve given your heart to someone in the first place. Why you decided to build a life with them.

“Babe.” Louis crawled across the bed so he could wrap his arms around Harry.

Harry was openly crying now, so overwhelmed by the day, by Louis, that he couldn’t hold it in. Louis brushed away tears from his husband’s cheeks and whispered against his mouth, “Why are you crying, love?”

“B…b-because. Because this whole…day…I…I…” Harry sniffled and rested his forehead against Louis’ strong shoulder. “I couldn’t figure out who would write those things about _me_.” He was sobbing now, Louis holding him close and rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“Hazza.” Louis cooed. “Baby. You work so hard for us. You do so much and I’m sorry I don’t…I’m not always good about showing you how much I appreciate it, how much I appreciate you and…I…” He pressed a kiss to Harry’s temple. “I want you to know that no matter what happens each day, how you look, what you’ve been through, how tired you are…I just. I always want _you_. Always.”

Harry began to calm down as he clung to Louis and Louis hugged him tight. With a start he jolted up and away from Louis so he could look him in the eye. “You wrote fucking _poetry_ for me!”

Louis giggled a little, hiding his face back in Harry’s hair and smiling against his neck. “Surpriiiiiise?”

Harry laughed and sniffed loudly, wiping his nose against the back of his hand. “Where did that all come from?”

Louis sat back down on the bed, shuffling toward the center so Harry could sit next to him. “Well…I’ve been uh…trying it lately, you know? Writing stuff down. Stuff I think about. Stuff I worry about. Mostly stuff about you and the kids. I dunno. It helps. Keeps me grounded, I guess.”

Harry tilted his head and looked carefully at Louis’ face. He was floored that Louis could surprise him still after all these years. Poetry. Harry shook his head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis said, ducking his head sheepishly. “Did it…did you like it?”

“Like it? Fuck, Lou, I loved it. It was _hot_. And sweet. And kind of raw? Yeah. It was good. Can’t believe you wrote all of it.” Harry smirked, his large warm hand dropping to his husband’s knee, nearly dwarfing it. “Don’t know what I would have done if it turned out to be anyone else but you.”

“Can’t believe you followed the clues.” Louis laughed lightly.

“Can’t believe it either.” Harry replied, running his hand through his long, loose curls. “A few times I thought I wouldn’t. Thought maybe I was being lured to my death.”

Louis laughed, a light sound like sleigh bells in the warm cozy cabin. “I figured.”

It was quiet for a moment, the two of them lost in their thoughts. Harry’s thumb swept over the inseam of Louis’ jeans at the juncture of his bent knee, almost absentmindedly as he hummed a note of surprise. “And the kids?”

“Mums. She was all kinds of excited about this.” Louis’ cheeks flushed with the memory of involving his mother in his scheme.

“So…what you’re saying is we have this cabin. All to ourselves. With no kids. For how long?” Harry’s voice slowed to its deep drawl as he enunciated each sentence carefully.

“All night.” Louis said, his voice an octave deeper, eyes already darkening.

“All night?”

“Mm.” Louis angled his body more fully toward Harry. “All night. What should we do with all that time?”

Harry pretended to think on it. “Well…I do have one idea…”

Louis knelt on his knees and calves, sliding his fingers in Harry’s hair, gently moving his head to the side so his neck was bared to Louis’ wet open mouth. “Yeah?” He licked out a small circle over the skin just below Harry’s jaw, under his ear.

“Hmm.” Harry hummed, sucking in a breath as Louis ran his teeth over the sensitive skin he was tonguing just a moment before. “We could…ah! _Louis_.” Louis sucked harshly, pulling skin between his teeth into his mouth, drawing blood to the surface, creating a delicious bolt of electricity that shot through Harry’s body.

“Yes love?” Louis pushed at Harry’s shoulders so that he fell back on the mattress, his long limbs unfolding like a starfish in an unfettered tide pool. He moved to straddle Harry, his strong legs gliding over his husband’s body in one smooth movement.

“We could…” Harry arched his back, feeling Louis’ hardening dick through the layers of clothing, angling his body so that their cocks bumped. Louis shuddered but kept running his mouth, lips, tongue and teeth over the long white column of Harry’s neck. “We could… _nap_.” He breathed out the word nap in his most sexy, deep voice.

Louis sat up abruptly. “Nap! Are you crazy? I planned all this….We’ve got this place…what are you?” Louis’ voice was bordering on screechy as he stared down at Harry in disbelief.

Harry burst out laughing, taking in Louis’ reddening face. “M’ kidding, love. Kidding!” He snorted, laughing loudly, crinkles at his eyes and his dimples full and deep on his cheeks.

Louis looked at Harry through squinted eyelids, a sliver of bright sparkling blue staring him down. “You’ll pay for that.” He sneered, menace lingering in his voice.

Harry’s eyes grew wide and he started to inch away, trying to buck Louis off of him, but to no avail. Louis was too strong and he was planted solidly on top of Harry. “Oh, you’ll pay.” He said darkly.

Suddenly, Harry was being assaulted. Deceptive dainty but strong fingers dug into his sides, relentlessly tickling him in all of the spots that only a partner of 16 years could know. Harry let out loud braying peals of laughter as he breathlessly begged for mercy. Louis just continued his attack, a maniacal glint in his eyes.

Finally, when Harry’s eyes were leaking more tears and his face was red and he was having trouble catching his breath, did Louis relent, shooshing him with soft pats over his face and small kisses to his cheeks. Harry wasn’t born yesterday. He used the opportunity to gain the upper hand. Swiftly, he flipped the two of them so that Louis was pinned underneath him on the soft mattress. The air surrounding them changed quickly, morphing into something thicker, sultrier, and full of promise and intent.

Harry bracketed Louis’ face with his hands on either side, his hair falling like a curtain around them. “Hi.” He whispered.

“Got me, didn’t you?” Louis whispered back, the only traces of laughter left on his face were the sharp indents from the crinkles pressed into the fine skin around his eyes.

“Got you.” Harry pressed his lips to Louis’, firm but gentle, lips slotting together like they were made for each other. Harry couldn’t be sure who licked into whose mouth first, but soon their tongues were gliding over one another and the taste Louis left on Harry’s tongue was sweet and comforting and slick with desire and _want_.

Louis’ hands slid down Harry’s broad back, muscles rippling under his expert touch, while Harry aligned their bodies so that his thigh was pressed between Louis’ legs and Louis’ thick strong thigh was under his crotch. Harry let out a breathy moan when he felt how hard Louis was underneath him. Bastard. Tickling Harry was always a sure fire way to turn Louis on.

“Baby.” Louis sighed in Harry’s ear, breaking the kiss so Harry could get at his neck, sucking and kissing along the place where his neck and shoulder met, pulling a series of nearly pornographic moans from Louis.

“Want you.” Harry groaned as Louis gripped his ass, one hand on each side, squeezing and kneading possessively.

“Want you too. Always.” Louis panted, his hips rolling up into Harry’s thigh, nearly of their own volition, fluid thrusts that seemed so much more graceful than the moment allowed. The movement was making Harry very, _very_ happy.  And hard. _Very_ hard.

Harry felt his heart skitter when he thought of the words Louis wrote to him about how he loved his eyes, his hair, his heart…He thought about how he planned this all out so they could find time together, find a place to remember who they were before they were Papa and Daddy; when they were just Harry and Louis.

Harry was embarrassingly hard now in his pants. He felt like a teenager. It was so rare these days that they messed around fully clothed, the need to get naked and have sex so ridiculously harried in the short spans of time they had that being fully clothed, hard and breathless with need such a novel experience; so much so that Harry thought maybe he should just make them both come like this, completely clothed and rutting up against each other like virgins in their parent’s basement. Then he remembered what Louis looked like naked and…that idea flew right out of his head.

“Want you inside me.” Harry moaned out, arching his back, letting Louis guide his head with a forceful tug of hair.

Louis’ hips stilled for a moment, breath coming in heavy pants, a beautiful flush spreading across his cheeks, neck and chest. “Yeah?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Christ, yeah Lou. Wanna feel you. Feel you come inside me. _God_ it’s been so long.” And it had. Usually quick blow jobs or hand jobs were the extent of their sexual activity, but sometimes, on the rare occasions they can make time for more, they used a condom just because it was easier and less messy.

Louis’ hips stuttered and his fingers tangled deeper in Harry’s curls. “Fuck. Yes. _Harry_.”

Their mouths met again, this time much more frantic and needy. Harry could probably kiss Louis all day, every day. He would forego food, water, even oxygen just to kiss Louis forever, all the time. Louis was apparently very much on board with getting inside Harry scenario because he was scrambling out from under Harry, pulling at Harry’s sweater and his t-shirt at the same time.

Harry laughed at his overzealous husband as he rolled off and tossed his sweater to the floor. “Easy there, Lou. M’ not going anywhere.”

Louis didn’t even _try_ to look embarrassed. His clothes were quickly disposed of and from somewhere, Harry couldn’t tell where, he produced a bottle of (Jesus, was that _flavored_? They really were celebrating weren’t they?) lube, the small bottle slipping out of his hands to the floor below. “Shit! Fuck. Shit!” Louis stuttered, dropping to his hands and knees to find it.

Harry peered over the edge of the bed at Louis’ plump arse waving in the air. “Or maybe you should ride me instead.” His mouth was watering looking down at the crack in Louis’ arse, unable to remember the last time he tasted him _there_.

Louis dropped the recently re-acquired lube and looked up at Harry, their noses nearly touching. “Later. Me first.” He growled.

Harry’s dick twitched. He loved when his husband got desperately bossy.

“The fuck are your pants still on?” Louis huffed, finally crawling back on the bed, his dick bouncing between his legs, curving toward his tummy.

Harry giggled. “You…uh…distracted me.” He waved his hands around toward Louis’ midsection.

Louis smirked and bit his bottom lip. “Can’t fuck you if these ridiculous jeans are still on Harold.”

Harry felt pre-come blurt pitifully out of his dick, wetting his underpants even further. His jeans _were_ uncomfortably tight. Louis tossed the lube next to Harry and knelt between his legs. He fumbled with the button on Harry’s jeans until he finally released it and he began yanking impatiently at the tight material.

“They are…um…” Harry stammered.

Louis cocked an eyebrow and mouthed at Harry’s stomach, just below his belly button. “They’re what, love?”

“Kinda tight.” Harry breathed out, feeling embarrassed about how much tighter his usually tight jeans were, since he’d put on a little weight. “Er…tighter than they used to be.”

Louis looked at Harry for a moment and then surged up his body to capture his lips in a deep, messy kiss. He whispered against Harry’s full, wet lips, “Don’t care. Still mine. Still so fucking _hot_ Harry. You don’t even know…”

Harry felt any shred of embarrassment or insecurity melt away. Louis loved him no matter what. Of course he did. Just like Harry loved Louis no matter what. When they decided to spend their lives together it wasn’t because of how Harry looked in jeans or how Louis looked in a suit. It wasn’t because of their bodies, their hair or the way they talked. It was all of those things but so much, much more. It was because on some level, on some other plane of existence, their hearts spoke to one another, knew each other. Their souls were connected in a way that is so uncommon, so special that not even Harry and Louis had a word for it.

And, so, it didn’t matter that Harry’s jeans didn’t fit quite the way they used to or the fact that Louis’ hair was getting more and more silver by the year or that they sometimes forgot to make time for worshipping each other the way they were now.   All that mattered was that they belonged to each other and that they would have this, this love, for the rest of their lives. And that was more of a turn on than anything else, in Harry’s opinion.

Louis finally relieved Harry of his jeans, after some degree of squirming and wriggling on Harry’s behalf, and his underpants came soon after. Harry lay on the bed, damp with sweat and so consumed with arousal that all he could do was look up at Louis helplessly, his hands twitching at his side and his cock throbbing painfully between his legs.

“Christ, Harry. So beautiful.” Louis said reverently.

Harry smiled up at Louis and managed to pull him down to his face, his mouth. They kissed slowly for a few minutes, lost in the act of renewing their love for each other. Harry traced over Louis’ tongue, his lips, his neck in languid strokes of desire while Louis gripped Harry’s face, shoulders and sides with the press of fingers that moved with awe and purpose. Finally, Harry turned his face to Louis so that their eyes could meet, jade green swimming in pools of aqua blue, “Please fuck me, husband.” He said, so softly, sweetly, that Louis stopped breathing for a moment.

“Yeah. Yes.” Louis muttered into Harry’s mouth, fumbling for the lube and working it open with one hand.

Louis moved alongside Harry so that his torso was pressed to Harry’s side, Harry’s arms flung overhead, hands gripping the ornate headboard behind them. Louis coated his fingers with lube (cherry, Harry was pleased to smell) and kissed Harry’s shoulder. Harry turned his head slowly so that he could look at Louis’ face while he prepped him. Louis propped himself up on one elbow and moved his slick hand between Harry’s legs. “Ready?”

Harry nodded once and brought one hand down to cup the back of Louis’ head. “Yes, please.” He murmured, kissing Louis’ bottom lip. Louis breathed into Harry’s mouth as he pressed one finger to Harry’s hole, pulling a shudder from Harry’s body. He circled the tender skin there a few times, spreading wetness and teasing Harry. “ _Lou_ …” Harry whined, gripping Louis’ hair tighter.

Louis chuckled against Harry’s mouth and pushed himself up and away and slid down the bed so he could settle between Harry’s legs. Harry arched his back off the bed and tried to push himself down on to Louis’ finger. He needed it, needed Louis, so badly. Finally, finally, Harry felt Louis push his finger inside, slow, tortuously slow, but so so _good_.

“Aaaaah.” Harry moaned into the softly lit room, his body pulling Louis in, just muscle memory, really.

“Fuck.” Louis groaned against Harry’s inner thigh. “Jesus, feel so good, Haz.”

Harry preened above, letting his eyes close as he felt Louis’ strong sure finger circle around inside him. The feeling was tight, slightly uncomfortable, but still…. _Louis_. Louis gave Harry a few moments to adjust before he went for his prostate. Knowing each other’s bodies as well as they did, it was easy for Louis to find it and when he did…Harry positively lost it. His voice shouted out hoarsely as he begged for more. “Louis! Oh god…please…pleasepleaseplease…”

Louis bit down on the sensitive pale skin of Harry’s inner thigh, sucking over the teeth marks and wetting the skin with his gentle tongue and firm lips. He slid another finger in then, as Harry began fucking down on Louis’ hand, causing Louis’ fingers to slide in deeper, making Harry moan louder. Harry was sure he could come just like this, and soon. Louis must have sensed this because he started to avoid the sensitive spot inside his husband’s body as he worked him open for his cock.

“Ready for another, love?” Louis asked, voice desperate and laced with want.

“God. Yes. Please.” Harry practically screamed, his body tense and arching off the bed.

Harry loved getting fingered. Loved it almost as much as getting split open by Louis’ cock. Louis was the only man he’d ever slept with but before Louis there were a few other boys. Boys who had no idea what they were doing. Boys who didn’t have magical fingers like his husband, his Louis. Louis has always known just how to touch Harry, just how to push his fingers inside Harry’s tight, hot body like they belonged there. Louis memorized the velvet inside of Harry’s body long before Harry even knew that he wanted children, wanted a house in the suburbs, wanted a life with Louis. And that memory, that knowledge of what his husband liked, wanted, _needed_ ….that is what Louis relied on now, in this tiny cabin along a rocky stream, far away from life, from reality. Right now all that mattered was Louis’ fingers inside Harry, and Harry’s body pulling him in, in, in.

Three fingers in, Louis stopped to appreciate Harry’s flushed, sweaty body sprawled out before him. Harry’s cock was twitching, a pool of pre-come glistening in the firelight on his belly. His hair was fanned out all around him and his nipples were peaked and dark rosy red. Louis licked up Harry’s cock, teasing him, making Harry’s body shake involuntarily.   “Going to fuck you now, _husband_.”   He said, calmly, assuredly.

All Harry could do was grunt a response and pull his legs up toward his face, hands gripping the backs of his knees and thighs. He was gone. So thoroughly blissed out and gone, Louis knew it wouldn’t take long.

Louis maneuvered himself upright, sitting up on his knees, as he dribbled more lube over his hard cock. His hands shook a little as he got himself ready because, well, it was _Harry_. And his dick was nearly doing a jig at the idea of getting inside that tiny hot wet space. Looking down at the beautiful man underneath him Louis could see that Harry needed him, and needed him fast and hard. Louis was fully prepared to give his husband, his love, all that he needed.

Louis pulled Harry’s legs wide and to the side and dropped to his hands so he could kiss Harry. A mess of wet tongues and teeth, the kiss was more of a preamble than anything else. It told Harry to get ready. To be ready for what Louis was going to give him. Louis pressed in fluidly, not stopping, not taking his time. He thrust all the way in in one harsh push.

“Nnngggh. Oh _fuck_. Louis!” Harry exhaled roughly, pushing his bottom down forcefully as his body took in Louis, all of Louis at one time.

“Ok?” Louis panted against Harry’s cheek, his hair stuck to his forehead and his body trembling with the effort it took to not move, move, _move_.

Harry scratched his nails along Louis scalp, letting out a labored shuddery breath. “Yes, for fuck’s sake. Fucking move.”

Louis laughed at his husband’s impatience, but who was he to deny the gorgeous man beneath him anything? “Whatever you want, love.” He patronized, grinning against Harry’s flushed neck.

Louis pulled his dick nearly all the way out and slammed back in, so hard Harry’s body slid up the bed and he shouted Louis’ name. It was like music in Louis’ ear. He needed to hear that again. The heat wrapped around Louis’ dick was immeasurable as he thrust inside Harry over and over again. His hips were snapping at a brutal pace, and Harry couldn’t hold back the grunts and moans that hurtled from his body with every deep fuck of Louis’ body inside his.

The years of fucking, loving and building a life for themselves was wrapped up in every pass of Louis’ cock inside Harry’s body. Harry pulled him in, pushed him out and wrapped himself around Louis and his impossibly hard cock at a fevered pace. Their orgasms built quickly, the shared need intense and so so pure that Harry’s could almost feel the white hot desire envelope them and melt over their skin, making them not two but one, fused together in arousal, heat and overwhelming love.

Louis was up on his knees now, holding Harry’s ankles up over his head as he pumped his hips against Harry’s arse fast and hard, his balls bouncing against Harry’s sticky, sweaty skin. “Come. On. Love.” Louis pleaded with Harry. Harry needed to come, his own dick leaking come steadily, his body so so hot and coiled and _ready_.

Louis showed no mercy, and, at last, fucked into Harry with purpose, nailing his prostate with the blunt head of his cock. He fucked into him once, twice, three more times, prodding at that tight bundle of nerves hard and fast until Harry shouted out in a raspy scream, “ _Louis_!” And pulsed thick creamy ropes of come all over his belly, straight up to his nipples. He came for what felt like an eternity, clenching down around Louis so hard, so hot, that Louis saw stars as he shot his load inside Harry’s waiting body.

Trembling, Louis dropped Harry’s legs unceremoniously, the long shapely limbs falling to the side as Louis fell on top of Harry, come sliding between them on their hot torsos. Louis stayed inside of Harry, because it still felt so good. Hot and wet and just perfectly Harry. He swiveled his hips minutely, just letting his still half hard dick fuck inside his husband with just the slightest of movements.

Harry sighed happily. He was sore, but in the best possible way, and he liked the feeling of having Louis inside of him. If he could walk around with Louis’ cock inside of him all the time he would be a happy man. He ran his fingertips down Louis’ sweaty back, drawing nonsensical shapes over the taut muscles. He landed his palms just above Louis still tensing bum, thumbs dipping into the dimples there.

“God, Harry. You felt…so good.” Louis finally spoke, his voice still shaky and much more raspy.

“Hm. Love having you inside me.” Harry smiled, pushing at Louis’ arse cheeks firmly to demonstrate.

“You are full of my come and you still want more? You filthy boy.” Louis teased.

Harry’s only response was a feeble gyration of his hips, clenching around Louis’ spent cock in the process. “Ow!” Louis groaned. “Mmmmm. Need a minute, love.”

Louis pulled out of Harry tenderly, pushing his finger inside Harry in his cock’s place. Harry moaned at the intrusion, his rim sore and delicate but his body craving anything Louis would give him. Harry loved having something stay inside of him after Louis filled him up. It was kind of dirty, but it made Harry feel like he could keep Louis, part of Louis, inside of him even after they stopped fucking. Louis smirked, wriggling his finger a little. “Still my dirty boy, eh?”

Harry smiled dazedly. “C’mere.” He whispered, pulling Louis down to him so that they could kiss. A lazy swipe of tongues and gentle wet presses of lips.

Finally, because they started to doze off and Louis’ hand got cramped, Louis pulled his finger out of Harry’s arse and asked Harry if he wanted a shower. “M’ too tired.” Harry mumbled.

Louis smiled at his perfect perfect husband and went to retrieve a warm wet cloth. He cleaned Harry up as best as he could, his dick twitching feebly at the sight of Harry’s glistening hole, still pooling with his come, _Jesus Christ_. Then, Louis went to shower quickly, leaving Harry to sleep.

When Harry woke about a half hour later, Louis was clean and almost dry and had set up a small dinner in front of the fireplace; cheese, fruit, a baguette and some wine. “Maryann had this ready for us in the fridge.” He gestured to the small compact refrigerator in the corner of the room that Harry hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Hm. That was nice.” Harry said, wincing a bit at his sore arse as he slid off the bed.

“Sore?” Louis asked, noticing Harry’s face.

“In a good way.” Harry said, smirking so that his face looked boyish and a little mischievous.

Louis poured the wine and Harry pulled on his underwear to join him on the floor. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, eating quietly and humming at how good the simple food tasted.

“So, Lou.” Harry began. Louis tilted his head and looked over at him. “What made you do all of this, really?”

Louis cleared his throat and blinked as he gathered his thoughts. Harry sipped his wine and settled back against the couch. “Well…” Louis said, softly. “I thought you needed a reminder.”

“A reminder?” Harry asked, putting a slice of cheese on top of an apple wedge and popping it in his mouth.

“Yeah. Of just how fucking beautiful and amazing and…lovely you are. I…” Louis’ eyes glistened in the firelight. “How much I still want you every day.”

Harry’s heart swelled again as he thought of how wonderful this day has been. “Me too. I want...I want you every day too.”

They looked at each other across the small space, the tray of food the only thing separating them, and for the first time in a long time, Harry felt so so happy. More than content, happy. Overflowing with joy and gratitude and just pure happiness. He was so, so lucky. He had a beautiful family and a handsome husband. But their love, this love, was something that he vowed to remember to not take for granted. To always remember that this, the two of them, is why they exist, what they were destined for.

Sometimes we need a reminder, Harry thought. A little jolt to make us remember what is really important. Louis gave that to him today, and Harry was so very thankful. And so, for the next 12 hours or so, Harry showed him. He fucked him slowly over the arm of the couch, fingers running up and down the curve of his spine while he whispered devotions of love and worship in time with his leisurely thrusts. He ate Louis out in the shower during the night after they kissed in the warm spray until it turned cold. He let Louis suck his cock while they dried off, coming all over Louis’ sharp cheekbones and carnation pink lips. Louis fucked him again, soft and slow, as the sun came up over the frost covered trees outside. And they kissed until their tongues were numb and their lips were sore on the sofa before they checked out and went to retrieve their children from their loving grandmother’s arms.

For years after, Harry would remember that magical day and night in the little cabin in the woods. And, every two or three years, they would return to rekindle the passion and spark that made them…. _them_. And Harry, well, Harry was certain that no two people in the history of human kind had ever had a love like his and Louis. Of that he was certain and that was really something.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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